Rewind, Stop, Pause, Play
by Angel360-Devil0
Summary: REWIND to see the problem, STOP to fix it, PAUSE to relish in the moment, and PLAY to make it happen. The unwitting instruments and the heartbroken work together to mend severed bonds.
1. Rewind

**A/N: **Alas, it is nearly 2 AM in the morning as I publish this new fic. However, when an idea comes, it must be acted upon! So here you all are, a semi-Will/Emma fic based on "Sectionals". Because it had to be done... but it's with a TWIST! You'll see...

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. If I did...well, I'd still publish fics. Just not for this fandom.**

* * *

At around 4:35 PM on a Saturday afternoon, there was not a cloud to be had in the sky. The sun was casting its rays for the final hours before it would begin to dim, and the world seemed as fresh as the dewdrops on the Astro-Turf of William McKinley Senior High School's football field every cold morning. Ohio did have weather, after all.

Of course, the world of William Schuester was the exact opposite of the weather that day. First, he had been dishonorably discharged from his position as New Directions' director. It was all due to one mattress that wasn't even soiled, as Sue had libelously pointed out. It was just unwrapped from its package. Second, Sue had leaked the set list, and although the kids sounded great, who knows what the judges would decide. What Jane Addams and Haverbrook had that McKinley didn't was the originality behind the stolen songs. And that no one knew that they were stolen. Third, his wife that he no longer loved due to a fake pregnancy had tried to convince him to stay. Even he didn't know if that was the right thing to do anymore. At least he was as honest as can be with her. Despite her lying, she deserved the truth. But it made him wonder if he was being truthful with her because he didn't want to leave as much as she didn't want him to. He hadn't the faintest clue of his actions. And fourth, he was attending a wedding that, in the dark recesses of his heart, didn't want to see happen.

Ken was, quite frankly, a jerk. And he had been so friendly only three months ago! Will became disillusioned after Ken had confronted him about being the best in Emma's eyes. Ken was truly someone who did not deserve Emma. She didn't even want him! From what Ken had said, she actually wanted—Will gulped at the very thought. What made him even more scared was that he wasn't sure if he reciprocated her feelings.

But Ann King didn't know any of this. In fact, Ann King knew only two things: she was being called for a catering job for a wedding at the very last second and that she hated her job.

Ann King was a young twenty-two year old woman who had never been able to get a decent break in her life. Fresh out of Ohio State University with a BA in Performing Arts, she was trying to scrap as much money as she could for the application fee to even have a shot at going to Juilliard's graduates program. If there was any way to get out of Lima, Juilliard was her ticket out.

But her vigor had been dying out as of late. Money had to be apportioned between herself, her family, and her younger sister Tammi, a blonde, short, tan (from the machines and lots of bronze spray-on), and stocky cheerleader at William McKinley Senior High. Tammi was trying her hardest to rise amongst the ranks of the Cheerios, but Coach Sue Sylvester had the tendency to bring her confidence shooting into the basement, so to speak. Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez certainly didn't help at all.

Ann always got the shaft, the short end of the stick. Most of the money went to her single father, desperately trying to find a better job. Being a lowly mechanic to Burt Hummel didn't bring in too much money. And secretly, he'd spend his salary on alcohol, beer, and liquor to drown his sorrows in. Raising two girls with their own conflicting needs was certainly a lot of hard work. Tammi needed the money for her Cheerio needs, which always ran a high price.

Ann came last. She ALWAYS CAME LAST.

Disrespect for her needs ran to an all-time high that Saturday afternoon. If being woken up to the sound of her father passing out on the kitchen floor, being forced to drive Tammi to Cheerios' morning practice because she had supposedly sprained her ankles (when she was walking just fine!), and typing up more of her application didn't exemplify inhumane treatment, then a phone call from her boss at 2 PM certainly did.

"Annie girl!" A thick Bostonian accent called out over the speaker on the home phone. Ann thanked her lucky stars that her father was out cold due to his hangover.

"Mr. Duvall…hello." Ann momentarily stopped typing away at her application.

"It's Du_Walle_, again, and Annie—"

"_Ann_…"

"Fran Fine the nanny! Whatever!" Curse the Bostonians and their atypical brashness, Ann furiously seethed to herself. "Joey just called me and said that Bella had to go to the hospital again. I don't know why and I don't care. What matters is that we're short a caterer for the wedding reception in the local VFW at 5 PM today."

Ann was even more enraged, but careful to not explode completely. "But it's my day _off_!" She was never good at containing her emotions.

"Work this gig and all goes well, I'll pay you _double_ your hourly wage on _top_ of whatever you earn on this gig."

She clenched her teeth. Despite all of his tactlessness, the man knew how to drive hard bargains. "Alright Mr. Du_Walle_, you have yourself a deal. I'll be at the VFW within the hour."

* * *

The gig was going by swimmingly. The unpacking was complete; all six tables, blue tablecloths, and red and white rose centerpieces were set by the time she got there all dressed in her black dress pants, black dress shoes, and white long sleeve button down chemise with a black vest on top of it. She even took the time to have her blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail. Six guests were to sit at each table that already had the plates and utensils set up perfectly. The only thing she had to help with was setting up the refreshments and 36 cup and saucers…and the buffet tables…and the monstrosity that was the hockey player ice sculpture, no doubt the groom's idea. The banners were set up by other caterers.

So Ann stood in the kitchen behind the serving window to distribute whatever dishes came her way—and waited. She waited until 4:15 PM. Joey, the brown haired joker, had decided to saunter into the kitchen and jump up to the window's countertop and dangle his legs, all the while pretending to be as blasé as a member of the Rat Pack.

She gave a huff. "You'd think the guests, hell; even the bride and _groom_ would be here by now."

"You'd think that someone as _dig_nified as you would've heard of the term 'fashionably late'." Joey fired back with a smirk.

"Shut up Joey." She spat back derisively. "I can't believe DuWalle called _me_ in to fill in for Bella. What the hell happened to her anyway?"

"Hallucination about vampires and werewolves. I think she's going through Twilight withdrawal; she _actually thinks_ she's that Bella chick from the movies." Joey proceeded to lay down flat on the countertop and turned his head to Ann. He didn't have much patience. "Oh come on! That was the best Bella joke yet!" Still, Ann was unsmiling. She did like the joke, but the pressure of the rest of the day had put her in a permanent mood. "Besides, Du wasn't even going to call in another person. _I_ told him to."

It didn't serve to snap Ann out of her deep frown. But she did glare. "Because you didn't want to do all of the work _I_ had to do?"

In one swift motion, Joey had snapped himself off of the countertop, landed firmly on the red tiled ground, and was face-to-face with Ann. "Because I need someone to talk to." No inflections, no smile. That was enough to snap her out of her mood, because she knew that he was being dead serious. As to whether she liked that or not…"Job gets boring, you know. You're the only person I can have a conversation with that goes beyond one joke—besides my family, of course."

That's when she heard a cough. A very small, almost mute cough, but it was certainly there. They turned their heads to see a woman sitting in one of the chairs, unmistakably the bride. She was wearing a long, white gown, a sparkly headband that split in the middle, accentuating the bun that her red hair was tied up in, a pair of long white gloves, and small earrings with short dangling pearl-colored spheres. There was no bouquet in her arms, and no smile plastered on her face, and Ann sensed that there was something wrong.

"She looks HOT." Joey whispered. Ann gave him a swift stomp on his foot, which made him stifle a cry of pain.

"Can't you see that she's upset? Come on." She, with Joey limping close behind, cautiously walked to the bride with porcelain skin and red hair and took a seat in the chair next to her. Joey took a seat from one of the other tables and sat on it with the back in front of him; that way, he'd have someplace to rest his arms. "Hi."

The woman gave no response, but looked at the two with sad brown eyes. She took the cue to continue. "I'm Ann and this is my friend Joey. We're the caterers for, guessing by your outfit, your wedding reception."

"Where are the guests?" Joey asked with absolutely no tact whatsoever. Ann gave a glare, but surprisingly, the woman spoke.

"My name is Emma. Emma Pillsbury. And…" She gave a shaky sigh. "There aren't any guests coming."

Ann felt ready to scream. The two hours' work, all for nothing?! NO, NO, NO!!!! But Joey suddenly had a dour look on his face, a stark contrast to the laughter in his eyes just a second ago. "We're needed in the kitchen, sorry." Ann, still too petrified with anger, had to be pulled out of her seat and dragged by him all the way to the serving window.

She snapped out of her cloud of anger and looked over to Emma, who was putting the chairs back in place. Sadness began to glaze over Ann's eyes. "Abandoned at the altar. But how did—?" She turned to Joey.

"My mom was abandoned at the altar when she was pregnant with me. What that woman _needs_ is time alone."

Emma never got that time alone, because as Ann was packing a few things to carry out of the kitchen, all the while staring at Emma, and Joey was sitting under the counter with a disappointed look about him, a man with slicked back curly hair, dressed in a nice outfit with a blue blazer and dark red tie on, walked across the hardwood flooring, gift in his hand, to the bride. Joey heard the footsteps and poked his head above the counter as quickly as a prairie dog. "Didn't she say—?" Ann put a hand over his mouth.

"Busy yourself with something so you can listen in as well." He scrambled to his feet and started to help pack the chips on the countertop. For a moment, she wondered why she had done that. But she tuned out her thoughts to hear the conversation.

"Hey…nice ice sculpture." The man commented. But as he approached her, a look of confusion crossed his face. "Where's Ken?"

The two assumed that Ken was the groom, therefore responsible for the ice sculpture. Ann had a deep-seated hate towards him now, because she had to haul it in and position it just right. "Um…" Emma gave a sorrowful breath. "Home, I'd imagine. Probably trying to regain some of the pride I stole from him." One second, two. "He dumped me."

"What?" The man gave an exasperated sigh.

"He said moving the wedding for Sectionals was the last straw." Emma nodded, desperately trying to keep herself together.

"What the hell's Sectionals?" Joey whispered.

"Don't know." Ann whispered back. "But—"

"But I thought he understood that-that you were doing this for the kids." The man sat down in the chair Ann had been sitting in 15 minutes ago and interrupted her answer to Joey.

He was unusually close to Emma for a wedding guest, Ann thought. Maybe they were good friends or something. "He understood that…I _wasn't_ doing it for the kids." Emma looked into the man's eyes and took on a look that seemed so familiar to Ann.

"I was doing it for you."

That sentence made the two caterers stop in their tracks and immediately lean against the countertop to listen. Ann glanced at Joey, who was engrossed in the couple outside, and then realized something._ 'I need someone to talk to.'_ But it couldn't be…was it…?

The man was a combination of dumbstruck and despondent, another look that Ann recognized. "Emma…I'm so sorry."

"No, gosh, no, it's not your fault, I—I really messed up. He was absolutely right; I _was_ settling for him." Three beat, four. She started again. "Really, one blink from you Will, and I would have been out the door."

A pause. Both looked near tears, and while Joey was cursing that he couldn't be closer to watch the drama, Ann was intently watching, deciphering all of the coded conversation. "So, um…I emailed my resignation to Figgins." A work romance. Joey thought it was the juiciest thing he had seen since that Fruit Gushers commercial as a kid, and Ann wanted nothing more than everything to be set right. The travails the couple must have gone through because of their unrequited love for one another…the man was turning more and more upset by the second.

"My last day is Monday. I just can't—" A tear threatened to spill from one of Emma's eyes, but it was too late. It already had. "I just can't be at that school." She rose from her seat in one swift motion. "I _can't_ see Ken without feeling ashamed, and I _can't_ see you without feeling _heart_broken."

Needless to say, the man named Will was shocked. And needless to say, Joey had begun to dig into the family size pack of tortilla chips. "Don't eat those!" Ann furiously whispered, and surprisingly, he complied.

As Emma began to walk away, Will grabbed her gloved arm. It seemed forceful, and yet…it wasn't at all. "I just left my wife." His eyes slowly shifted their gaze to Emma's face. He looked ready to cry as well; the tears ready to spill from his eyes shone in the fluorescent light of the reception room, making themselves known to Ann and Joey.

"No, I'm sorry. I, um…I'm going." She slipped out of his grasp and began walking again.

"But I _just_—" He called again, but was swiftly cut off.

"_Just_ left your wife. Exactly. You _just_ did." She gave a brief smile before more walking.

Before she left for good, he called out one last time. "You make a beautiful bride."

She turned around and gave another small smile through the tears. "Thank you." And five seconds later, he was all alone in the reception room.

Only a slow minute passed before a caterer came into the area to take away the ice sculpture. A group of three was cleaning the buffet tables. The chefs came in and helped put away all of the dishes and utensils. More things were picked up and carried away.

Soon, there was only one table left in the entire room. The man had been sitting there for the past hour, unable to move. Ann and Joey were stuck with the last table while the other untouched items were being carried away. "Will—"

"How do you know my name?" He answered Ann back with only a small amount of anger in his voice.

"The conversation carried. But we need to clean up this last table. Sorry." Joey was already stacking the chairs, so Will rose from his seat and began to slowly take his leave.

As Ann picked up the last rose centerpiece, she noticed that the present was still on the table. "Will, you forgot your present."

He stopped. Without turning around, he called back, "I didn't forget anything." The door slammed, and she was left alone.

Joey was now taking the tablecloth off of the table; the dishes and utensils had long been put away. "Could you move that box off of the table?" Ann silently did as she was told, and in a flash, the cloth was folded up into a neat square. "What's in it anyway?"

"It's not ours! We aren't _supposed_ to know what's inside!"

"That guy left it here for a reason, and I don't think the _bride_ would want it. Not after…_that_. Besides, it looks nice." He nudged the silver envelope out from behind the ribbon, and began to read the contents of the card aloud. "'Thanks for everything, especially being at Sectionals for the kids. I hope you have a happy life with Ken. Will.'" Joey proceeded to rip off the ribbon and bow, but worked carefully at the wrapping. It revealed a white box, and when it was opened…"Whoa. Ann, look at this."

"What?" She looked into the white box, and saw, buried in tiny bits of popcorn foam packaging was a small cream colored box with gold colored leaves on it. Ann silently and gingerly lifted it out of the box, placed it on the table, wound the key at the back, and opened the lid to reveal—"A music box. My mom had one of these as a gift from her friend." Two figurines, a man wearing a tuxedo and a woman wearing a sparkling white gown in a fixed dance amongst a background of morning glories, seemed to twirl to the melody. "There's a note here too." She picked up the note and read the following aloud, "'Terri always thought this was the most useless of our wedding gifts, even more useless than the colanders we got. I made sure to have this restored by a professional; the mechanism was rusty, and now it's 100% germ free. Hopefully you use it more than we ever did. Will.'"

Her heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. The sadness, for some inexplicable reason, was welling up inside of her. Something had to be done. So she closed the box, ending the melody, and ran out of the reception room in the opposite direction of the catering truck. "Ann! _ANN_!"

Ann didn't get far from the VFW building. She stopped at a bench in the nearby Warren Gamaliel Harding Park, sat on it, and burst into tears.

Meanwhile, Joey packed the tablecloth and last centerpiece in the truck. "Where's Ann?" One of the guys asked him.

"She ran off. Got upset for some reason." Joey bitterly answered.

"You scared her away, that's why!" The guys in the truck burst out in loud and jeering laughter, high fives all around.

"Shut up, all of you!" The female truck driver answered. She happened to have a soft spot for the two of them, being the youngest caterers in the group. "Joey, make sure she doesn't get herself hurt. I'll be sure to tell the boss about this. Wouldn't want to see news of a car crash on the ten o'clock news…" He nodded and ran back into the now bare reception room. He gave one glance at the music box, and knew exactly what to do.

* * *

The sun was almost gone, and by then, Ann was the only being in the park besides the last birds of the day chirping away. She couldn't care less about how long she'd been crying, or that her makeup was running, or that she was curled in a ball on the bench, looking utterly ridiculous and not at all her age—all she wanted was to forget about her day, how horrible it had been, and forget her mother's death, how destitute her family was now. If it wasn't for Ann, her father would've slipped into death's arms years ago.

"I think you need it more than I do." Joey held the tissue in front of her, but as she reached for it, he slipped her the white box, heavy with its contents.

"I don't want it." She uncurled her legs so she had her feet on the ground and pushed the box to the other side of the bench. She could care less about the tissue and how her sadness made her look, and glared at Joey as he picked up the box and sat down next to Ann.

"Then what _do_ you want? The tissue?" He dangled it in front of her, laughing a kind laugh.

"I want to forget. _Forget_ all of the bad stuff. Reverse time and make sure it never happened."

"I thought you'd know why you can't do that. It's one of the oldest rules in the _book_: you can't know what's _good_ until you've experienced what's _bad_." He held out the box again.

Ann gave a sob-shaken huff. "Doesn't matter. The _bad_ that I've had is _too_ bad. And I don't need that _music_ box." She added in a mumble, "It reminds me of my mom." Strangely, it made her feel better. But she spoke out loud again. "_Besides_, I already _have_ one. My mom's."

"Bet you hers isn't as expensive as this one. Anyway, _I_ can't keep it; my mom breaks everything she touches. She'd have a _heart_ attack if she broke this on accident." He leapt off of the bench and stood over Ann. "Way I see it, you've got two choices: you can either sit here on this bench into the cold night, crying until your tear ducts can't produce anymore tears, then leave to your home to do _whatever_…_or_ you can take the music box, I'll give you the tissue to dry your eyes _before_ they dry out, and then we can get something to eat for dinner."

She did need that tissue. There weren't any in her car. "Are you _threatening_ _me_ into a date?" She spat back with a little bit of a playful twinge.

"Ouch! I prefer _coercing you_." He gave a wink. "Has a bit of a kinky—"

"_Give me that_." In a single motion, she rose from the bench and snatched the tissue and the box from his hands, a new glow in her eyes.

"It's a date then? Or are you just going to mug me and leave me here? If so, just avoid the face and my wallet is in my back pocket." He closed his eyes and scrunched his face.

Ann saw an opportunity, so she carefully looped her arms around his neck, traced a finger down his back, and nudged his wallet out of the back pocket. "_Not_ if you can't pay for dinner." And she began to run at a brisk jog out of the park.

"Hey!" He turned around and began to run after her.

"I said mugging, NOT _seducing_!"

* * *

**A/N: **Alright, so first, there are a few things that have to be cleared up.

--If you didn't realize it yet, Ann is the blonde woman who was looking at Emma forlornly during the reception scene.

--Ann King might sound familiar. Well, good, because it's the same name of a character portrayed by Geraldine Fitzgerald from the movie "Dark Victory".

--Tammi King is the Cheerio that was pushed by Sue as she angrily left Will after her threats.

--There were a few bits of inspiration that went into that music box. The melody is "Unchained Melody" (search it up on YouTube) and the figurines looked a little like a cross between three Llardro Porcelain figurines: "I Love You Truly", "Together Forever", and "Everlasting Love".

There will be a continuation, but not with Ann. As for a continuation after that...well, I'll leave it up to you. So for now, reviews are very much appreciated.

~Lane


	2. Stop

**A/N: **Smell that? That is the smell of a new chapter, hot off the presses! It's around 2:10 AM...again...but you know, couldn't sleep and all that. It took only a few hours to type up the whole chapter, around three, I'd presume, with the ending spiced with The Kiss scene and The Song in my head. It was a joy to type, in other words. So, have fun, disclaimer is in the first chapter!  


* * *

Late afternoon on the following Monday, 3:15 PM on the dot. William McKinley Senior High School's buildings were devoid of all students; there was no SAT practice, no Math Club or Chess Club or anything of the sort. Monday was the start of the school week, when teachers piled on boatloads of homework. This day wasn't meant for devotion to extracurricular activities, but rather the dropping of an anchor for students, to make sure they could be all that they could be. The only exceptions were the dimwitted Jocks and Cheerios. They had physical prowess, no need for an anchor that would hold them back. That meant less grants and funds for the school.

The silence, or lack of loud, truncated groans and yells common with barbaric teens, could be taken any number of ways.

New Directions, the resident show choir, took the silence as a blessing. After the performance, the kids had decided to make it up to their former director who had inspired hope in them all by performing a song, as though they were back in the week when they were performing ballads. It was a closely guarded secret from Emma, because she would no doubt say something to Will and ruin the surprise entirely. A few others had ulterior motives, but it was unimportant and barely touched on at the time. All of Sunday had been spent in Kurt's basement first choosing which song would convey the message perfectly, and then working out the choreography. No one was too content with learning new choreography (it was bad enough coming up with choreography in only an hour during Sectionals) after Sectionals, so they decided on a mash-up of ALL of their performances, from the Cheerios' audition to the drug-induced mash-ups, even Kurt, Tina, and Brittany's "Single Ladies" dance. All it needed was just blocking and brushing up. Getting past the bickering, the snark, and the put-downs, and everyone came to realize—again—that they really were a great team.

Things hadn't been great with April Rhodes, but it seems she had brought them closer, for her influence was still felt when they decided to use choreography from "Last Name" near the beginning of their song. Rachel even called Brad and Artie called his Jazz Band friends to make sure the instrumentals would be absolutely perfect. When Burt Hummel had come down to tell his son to keep the noise down, he couldn't help but clap and give a strange smile as he watched them perform, having genuine fun.

When 3:15 PM finally rolled around, the kids could barely contain their excitement. Even in Kurt's basement, they had taken care to decide how they were going to present the trophy and the number. Lines were worked out, and all was well.

"Hey guys!" Will seemed unusually cheery today, and the choir exchanged nervous glances. The only time someone was ridiculously cheery was when they were trying to hide their sadness. "Uh…why are you all standing there like that?"

Finn broke the silence and the nerves. Nothing could stop this, not now. "Well, we have a few things we'd like to show you Mr. Schue." A strange glance from Will. "First…" One second, two, and just as rehearsed, the kids cheered and said ta-da while Finn and Rachel backed away to reveal Artie carrying the Sectionals first place trophy. Rachel pushed Artie to Will, and he gladly took the trophy and held it, marveling at its gold and red.

"I am so _proud_ of you guys. You won fair and square. The result was unanimous, and—and the judges didn't even _know_ about all of the _shenan_igans going on behind the scenes." The students chuckled at this, for they knew all about it already, but to hear it from the man who gave them hope…well, it meant something deeper, something…more. None of them, not even Rachel or Artie, could explain it if they tried. "So…congratulations. You _earned_ this." The students clapped again, and Will encouraged them with, "Yeah! Give it up! Come on! All right! But—!" The students stopped clapping as he set the trophy down on the ground to his right, their left. "Now we have _Regionals_ to worry about, and you can _bet_ that Vocal Adrenaline is going to be hard at work, so we should be too. So, let's get started!"

"Uh, wait, Mr. Schue, there's…one more thing." Puck didn't struggle at all with his lines, but added in his normal cadence.

Rachel momentarily snapped out of her gaze at Puck. She was proud of how far he had come. Now he had something to care about, and she couldn't be happier. "Since you weren't able to be there to see us perform, we put together a special number just for _you_! Take a seat!" Rachel said in a sing-song voice.

Finn already had the chair prepared, and put Will down in it by the shoulders. The group nodded, and they started to sing. That gave the immediate cue to Brad and the other musicians to start playing, and within a few seconds, the group had launched into the first verse of a popular song called "My Life Would Suck Without You". They knew he wasn't acquainted with pop songs, so Kurt had decided it was time for that to happen. Wouldn't want a repeat of the pep rally, would we, he gave as his reasoning.

There were only a few minor transgressions, such as Tina not getting into the "Sit Down, You're Rocking the Boat" pose soon enough, or Kurt not moving away from the "Single Ladies" dance quickly enough, but all in all, they were so minor that they could be taken as planned. Will seemed to be having too much fun watching them to care.

At the end of the song, he gave a few claps. "That was great guys! Ah, but—could you excuse me for just one moment?" And he bolted right out of the rehearsal room without even getting the okay to do so.

"Were we _that_ bad?" Tina asked first, breaking the five second silence.

"Of course not. He probably…forgot something." Rachel was trying to make sense of his sudden absence as well, but wanted to give Tina some reassurance. Rising stars always gave reassurance to people.

"Like what?" Mercedes asked, a little bit of her attitude taken away. "It's not like there's someone he has to go to."

"Actually, there is." Kurt said with his usual command. "I confess, there was another reason I chose Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You". Her music normally makes my ears _bleed_…_but_ I'm afraid it was the only song that would convey the right message to Mr. Schuester."

"And what message would that be?" Mercedes asked back, shaking her hair a tad.

"_Really_?" Puck butted into the conversation. "Are _all_ of you _this_ _stupid_?" Finn scoffed, and Kurt merely quirked an eyebrow.

"So I'm not the only one who noticed." Interesting, considering your intelligence, Kurt thought to himself. He didn't want to be thrown in the dumpster, no matter the trust they had due to the club. Jocks were Jocks through and through.

"I'm sorry, noticed what?" Rachel asked.

"Mr. Schue has the hots for the ginger." No epiphanies as of yet. "Ugh, Ms. _P_, our _baby-sitter_."

"_What_?" Mercedes asked, incredulous. Tina darted her eyes, unsure of the new information revealed.

"The tension they give off is enough for even the fashion-challenged to notice." Kurt absently remarked.

"In _English_." Santana rudely commanded.

"They're practically _dating_." Puck added.

Brittany looked around, and then asked, "So, are they like, having sex?" Kurt mouthed an 'oh God' of shock, Puck rolled his eyes, and Santana elbowed her closet partner.

"Who else knows?" Quinn asked to dispel yet another awkward moment.

"The whole _school_ knows." Puck retorted, momentarily forgetting that Quinn had asked the question. He had pledged that he'd be nicer to her so he could claim his rightful paternity. He'd sue if it came down to it.

"Well, _I_ didn't." Rachel said.

"_You're_ not the whole school." Kurt retorted, which made Rachel's mouth, for the first time in a long time, drop open like a codfish.

Suddenly, Mike felt the need to say something, if only to keep a verbal spat between Rachel and Kurt from breaking out. "There are bets on this. We bet that they'd get together after—"

"Dude! What the _hell_?!" Matt spoke for the first time in front of everyone in an enraged tone, which made everyone look in his direction.

"Who was in on this _bet_?" Finn asked in a slightly tempered tone. Puck, Santana, Brittany (who raised her left hand despite being right handed), Mike, Kurt, and Matt raised their hands. After thirty seconds, Artie, Mercedes, and Tina raised their hands slowly and nervously. They were fearful of Finn's sudden temper, and after seeing what he did to Puck…

"How bar_bar_ic." Rachel commented. "Betting on people's love lives. Work relationships are discouraged anyway; I _read_ the faculty rules."

"Which is _why_ there isn't anything going _on_." Mercedes said. "They should _know_ better." She looked around for a target to glare at, and tried to find Puck.

He was nowhere in the room. "_Hell no_," Mercedes yelled out. "He did _not_ just—when I get my hands on him…" She seethed as she began to briskly walk out of the door. At the threshold, she stopped. "What are _you all_ waiting for? He _went_ to see if they've _kissed_ yet! He could _lie_ to us and _I_'d be _robbed_ of twenty dollars!"

"SHIT!" Matt yelled, and ran after Mercedes; Mike, Santana, Brittany, and the rest of the choir followed them.

* * *

They first ran to the woman's former office, now bare as the empty feeling she was feeling in her heart at that moment. They decided to immediately run down the hall, where hopefully, they'd find her right around a corner. They were taking care, because if they happened to startle her…they'd never know about the outcome of the bet.

Soon, they turned yet another corner, only to find Puck, who seemed to be looking around a corner, watching something—or someone. The people who placed bets carefully spied around the corner, only to find a man, unmistakably their director, putting down a green box with an orchid sticking out of it and gazing intently at the red-head, also unmistakably their director's stand-in, and maybe something more…?

With bated breath, the group filed out from behind the corner to get a better view (they weren't noticed for reasons possibly beyond anyone's knowledge), and after around fifteen seconds, it happened. Puck flipped out his camera phone and took a picture of the "parents" of their choir finally making an important step in their strange, and maybe even strangled, relationship. He and the bet-winners smirked in delight.

The group, together, somehow strengthened by that electrifying kiss from afar, immediately filed back to the choir.

Puck passed his phone with the evidence, his claim to the bet. "I believe _some_ of you owe me twenty _dineros_." He remarked with a smug smirk.

After Mercedes, Matt, Mike, Artie, and Tina paid their dues to Kurt, Puck, Santana, and Brittany, with much grumbling, laughing, gasping, and scoffing, there was one final question.

"So, are they going to be having sex?"

To the shock of all of the kids, there was a reply. "What?!" But the tacit addition that everyone knew?

Not yet.

* * *

**A/N: **I tried to put a lot of humor in this one and get the character voices, because I don't specialize in New Directions' voices. Did it come across alright? Reviews are highly appreciated!


	3. Pause

**A/N: **Another chapter! This one I typed in only a few hours as well, but not in the early morning. Rather, it was typed late afternoon and early evening the same day I posted "Stop". I had a streak, that's all. Disclaimer is in the first chapter.

* * *

Sometimes, there were moments when one just had to pause to take everything in. To get past the incredulous feeling and jubilance building up inside one's body, to be sure to let all of the senses take everything in. To feel, to see, to taste, to hear, to smell…take everything in, and the world takes one in. One did not have to change; the world would accept one for their unadulterated self. These moments were rather rare for even the richest, or the most blessed of all. When they came, even the privileged had to pause and take everything in.

The scared, the fearful, even they had their moments. However, these moments seemed even rarer to them because they would instinctively close up like a clam and not let anyone in. No one was allowed to see their true selves, because they felt self-conscious, or felt that the truth was too great for anyone but themselves to bear. Doing this dulled their senses, numbed their nerves so they couldn't feel, or taste, or hear very well. They could only smell and see properly, and even then, it was still slightly skewed. Eyes could trick, and so could noses. It wasn't nearly enough to satisfy their needs. It was a pitiful course of life for them, but as long as they got by and lived to a ripe old age, it was still okay. None rose against their condemned lifestyle, because although saddening, it was safe. Nice and neat and safe.

Emma Pillsbury fell into this category of the hopeless and damned. She didn't think of herself as beautiful, lived in a sham love life until the past Saturday, and had great feelings for a married man all the while…not to mention her debilitating germ phobia that bordered on obsessive-compulsive disorder.

So as she emailed her resignation to Principal Figgins, tears dyed with eyeliner streaming down her face, she couldn't help but have a nagging feeling within her that something wasn't right about this, that she was running away from yet another problem. She was being cowardly, as per usual with women of her character. But for the moment, she was perfectly fine with running away.

It hadn't dawned on her that she had been running ever since her brother pushed her into the run-off lagoon at the dairy farm. It was running from germs at first. Then it was running from her true feelings by letting herself be regulated to the bottom of her high school's caste system. A lack of self-confidence and esteem led to a lost bid for an out-of-state university, so she ran for Ohio State University. It was homesickness that literally made her sick and vomit (which, truthfully, was the blackest moment of her life, even blacker than breaking school rules for her secret Prince Charming) which led her back to Lima instead of leaving to another state to enroll in graduate school. For years, it was running, running, running. And if she could run again, she would sprint.

It had taken only around a half-hour to pack her things. There was the pure, clean, white orchid from her first date with Ken Tanaka at Tulip-Palooza, the pamphlets, the pencils and pens and paper all packed into an open green and white box that had a neat label with her name and "Office Supplies" tacked underneath in two parallel lines. After making sure she hadn't forgotten a single item, she took a mental picture of her former office. She only sighed as she shrugged on her green wool soldier coat and fixed her white beret neatly, yet still askew on her head. For that, neat was considered askew. The black phone was school property, and was the only thing left on the wooden desk. With much will-power, she forced herself to pick up the green box and leave the office, which seemed like a glass box on the outside. It wasn't running, she managed to convince herself, but healing. She had to heal her damaged psyche without any help, to prove she had a shred of independence left in the wake of her own doings.

During her silent parade and march through the hallways, she couldn't help but have a romantic notion within her. She hoped that Prince Charming would chase her, stop her, sweep her into a passionate kiss. It would be silent expect for their ragged breathing after he had sprinted for her, drank her in slowly, and gave her a powerful, yet chaste kiss with no disgusting tongue slipping in her mouth…although, since it was Will she was daydreaming about—

She stopped in the middle of the hallway, frozen mid-step. That thought had to be banished from her mind—and fast—or it would eat her alive. Then she'd actually want to go back to Figgins and revoke her resignation. And that would be a challenge within itself.

It was so dead silent in the hallway that she could even hear a pin drop. But no pin dropped; rather, there was quiet breathing, and a sigh of relief. It echoed, and she turned her head to the left to see who it was. To her inner surprise and shock, it was him. _Will_. And he was…no…it couldn't be…but it seemed real, so she turned to him from afar, holding her box, surprise quite possibly on her dour face. She wasn't dreaming now, because if she were, it meant the resignation had never been sent, and she distinctly remembered feeling the hot tears on her face, burning here eyes on that Saturday.

He had invaded her personal bubble, but it didn't really seem to matter at the moment; she was too frozen with a mix of anticipation, fear, dread, joy, a strange mix of feelings as she turned to face him, immediately attracted to him. He took the box from her hands and carefully set it down to her right, his left. And there was this look—she couldn't explain it—but it looked like he was strengthening himself for some sort of strenuous exercise, or a tension-filled moment. Did he want to ask her something? Why do you have to leave? Why can't you stay? Some romantic question? But all she could distinctly feel at that moment was how great it felt to no longer be holding that box of memories, some good, but most bad.

Her voice died in her throat as she mouthed 'what?', only to find that his finger was hovering in front of her lips, but not touching them, just the way she'd prefer it. As his finger disappeared, she looked up into those deep brown pools, and before she knew it, she distinctly felt as though something had been injected into her. What was it that made her feel those soft lips, taste a hint of chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk, hear him inhale through his nose as though he were smelling her lotion or variety of scented hair products, smell a dying out cologne? Her eyes were closed, and in her mind's eye, she could see herself whispering, kiss him back.

Kiss him back. And she steadied herself and slowly put her hands on each of his biceps ('they're this strong?' she wondered) and she managed to kiss back and take in more of the feelings, the tastes, the senses of this moment.

And after a few seconds, when she needed air and pulled away slowly against her will, she looked into his eyes, questioning and even a little bit guilty, and realized what made her take in all of the senses once again: love. Unconditional love, pure love, jubilant, exploding love. And it made her let a cross between a laugh and a sigh escape from her smiling lips. To her great inner delight, relief overcame his expression, and he smiled too.

"Will—"

"Don't leave." He whispered softly. "_Please_."

And in those eyes, she couldn't find it in herself to quite refuse, even though she should, and even though she should be realizing the horror of this situation. It still hadn't hit her that he had kissed her while still married to Terri, and even with all her evilness, she didn't deserve it. But then again, plenty of couples date while in the middle of a divorce, so…

"Emma, I have to get back to the kids."

That brought her back down to Earth. "We…we need to talk about this later." And before she could stop herself, the final words were out of her mouth, "At my apartment?"

"Alright then." He smiled. "I don't know where you live, so uh…wait for me?" She nodded, and he picked up the box and placed it back in her arms. Like a real gentleman.

* * *

Now she had to go to Figgins and try to change his mind. She couldn't bear to see Will heartbroken, not now, not after what he just…did.

She found the principal still at his desk, head in his hands, weary from the day. After the receptionist let her into the office, she took a seat in one of the chairs. "Principal Figgins…I've decided to stay at the school as the guidance counselor."

He seemed to perk up instantly. "Really?" He gave a laugh of relief. "That's great! We don't have to spend so much time finding a replacement, losing money…"

She tried to make a getaway from his ramblings of joy, and as she stood up, she was stopped. "Miss Pillsbury, before you put your things back, I must ask…why have you decided to stay?"

"Well…" She clapped her hands together and looked off to the side, searching for an answer. After a few seconds, her eyes lit up with realization. "I decided that it was time to stop running away." They gave each other a smile, and after standard exchanges of calm thanks, she made her way back to her office and began unpacking her things again.

In the office, it felt more like her first day, starting anew. The office no longer looked like a glass box, but a clean and clear home. She didn't feel as though she were being put on display for the world to laugh at, but the world to admire. It would be a new chance to make great and fun memories, above all.

And the one thing the two moments in time had in common besides unpacking items from a green box?

She had a burst of happiness from meeting a great man to help her along.

* * *

**A/N: **I was pretty much listening to "So Close" by Jon McLaughlin while typing, so I decided to do a bit of an unconventional break and make everything happy, because I'm fairly sure this is how it'll go down in the writing room with Ryan Murphy and crew. I mean, at "Mash-Up" I would've been betting on there not being a kiss in the finale, and I was wrong. But there's a final chapter, and who knows what will happen there? You won't know without the next chapter, which I have somewhat planned. Reviews are highly appreciated!


	4. Play

**A/N: **Here's the final part. You may like it, you may not. You probably won't. In fact, you'll probably hate me for it. But enjoy anyhow! Disclaimer is in the first chapter.

* * *

"Wow…it's…very clean." Will Schuester commented as he stepped into the apartment of Emma Pillsbury, reinstated guidance counselor of William McKinley Senior High School. Emma, on the other hand, had just hung up her soldier coat and white beret on their proper wooden hooks. "It suits you." He smiled.

It was a picture in teal—at least, the walls were. The colors were actually quite muted for someone who dressed so colorfully, but Will had to hand it to her, she did have good taste and an eye for placement. It could have easily been argued that she practiced feng shui, for her door was a stop sign red with a gold colored knocker on it, shiny like the morning sun's first rays upon the world every morning.

"Thank you." She made a beeline for the kitchen, far away from where Will was wandering to. "But…would you like something to drink? Water, tea? Oh, just take a seat on the couch."

"Tea's fine." She began to pour filtered water into an electric pot. It wasn't as noisy as a regular teapot, with the whistling and whatnot, and although the electric pot was a tad more expensive, it was better than having to endure the untidy noise. She then pulled out two mugs; two white ones that had been stored in the back, used sparingly compared to her more colorful mugs. Now, white didn't pain her to look at so much.

Unknown to her, Will had been watching her every move. It seemed that after that kiss, he had begun to realize how hard he had really fallen for this woman. There were these dreams he used to have when Terri blocked him away from her; it was always holding the hand of some mysterious woman, or just having a picnic with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. When those dreams began to become colorful and vivid, and also included dancing, which happened after he had helped Emma with her own dancing needs, well…it began to really unnerve him. But these dreams were kept to him, even away from Terri, because she might infer the horrible connotations.

Once she had clicked the button to begin boiling the water and put two tea bags inside the white mugs, he eyed the green soldier coat and white beret. She had already taken off two articles of clothing; would she take off more? His urges were quickly put in motion by the two items, and maybe if he had enough time—

"It's chamomile tea. Do you mind?" She was sitting on the plastic covered gray couch, a healthy distance away from him, just barely longer than his arm's length. He shook his head in response. "We need to talk about this."

"I left Terri." He simply stated, just as he did at the cancelled wedding.

"I—I know, but you shouldn't just—just—" She sighed and looked down, trying to form the right words. "You're still _mar_ried to her, Will." She looked up and smiled crookedly at him. "And there's still a chance you can save your marriage."

"I don't think I can. She said it herself; I'm slipping away—" He inched closer, making the plastic squeak a bit.

She was losing ground, fast. So she edged away from him simultaneously. "I have a friend who's a marriage counselor. We were in the same germaphobia support group. I still have his number, I can—"

"_His_?" A hint of jealousy made itself known in his voice.

"I, um, dated him before working at the school. But the point is that you need _help_, Will. Just because you've lost touch with Terri doesn't mean you can't get it back." Click and the water had boiled. "Excuse me." And she abruptly jerked up from the couch and stiffly walked to the kitchen to pour the scalding water into the two cups. Gingerly, she walked back to the couch and set the two mugs down on the already set coasters. She then sat back down on the couch, still an arm's length away from Will.

"Why are you doing this?" He looked at her with sorrowful eyes.

"What are you talking about? I—I don't—know what—" She inched away even further, all the while thinking that she should've walked out of the school while she had the chance.

"Emma…" He skimmed her hand lightly as he was suddenly really, really close to her, and her breath hitched faintly. "What are you afraid of?"

She tried backing away again, but found she was at the armrest of the couch. She began panicking in response. I can't be the rebound, I can't be the rebound—"You can't act on your impulses. It—it only gets more complicated along the way, and—and we can be b—can get—" If this were anywhere else, at any other point in time, she'd be walking or running away, to make sure no one could see her cry. And now, her home was no longer a safe haven. It was hell, and she couldn't get away.

But at the same time, he understood what had troubled her for so long, what had made her go to Ken, why they hadn't been cleaning the bathrooms in the Science Wing together three months ago—so he pulled her away from the end of the couch and closed the gap between their bodies.

And as he kissed her deeply and passionately with all of the promise in the world, that she was by no means the rebound, but what he had been looking for all along, he realized—she wasn't kissing back. When he looked at her, her skin was even paler than usual, her eyes were closed shut, and her body was limp as a noodle.

But what made him cry and scream in anguish was that he couldn't smell the lavender of her skin lotion, or the ocean breeze in her hair, and couldn't feel her warm breath on him at all. It was as though the senses had left him all of a sudden.

* * *

A man shot up out of bed in the dead of night, clad only in red boxers and nothing else. He ran a hand through his curly hair and silently groaned in guilt and utter loss before plunging back into sleep.

* * *

"_Will—" Emma whispered after regaining her voice._

"_Don't leave." He whispered softly. "__**Please**__."_

"_I—I—" She picked up her green and white box and stepped away from him. "I'm sorry. But I can't stay." I'll kill myself that way, she thought to herself._

"_But we can still get to Figgins; you—"_

"_**You**__ have the kids to get back to; they need your help." She nodded. "__**I**__ can't help anyone anymore, not here. Goodbye."_

_He was frozen in place as she walked down the stairs to the first floor exit. It was a few minutes until he managed to make himself smile realistically again and made himself go back to the kids_.

* * *

**A/N: **We've reached the end! This was just my little take on the finale, nothing too far into the future. Thanks to all who have alerted, favorited, and most of all, reviewed! But anyhow, did you hate the ending or like the ending? Something else that bothered you? Well, that's what reviewing is for!


End file.
